Waiting Till the Wedding
by written by shame
Summary: Wolfstar, getting together, Sirius POV, Muggle AU. Rated M in case. Music by Sirius is similar to Message to Bears. Friendship. Co-staring HP cast. ;P ...I stick around just to eat my sandwich, taking small sketches of him with my artistic eye - for later. My book is placed in front of me like a medieval shield of an old warrior – I am defending my secret.


I have found out that walking into a room wearing a hat makes people relax.

The same way as colour hair does. People see you, as you walk in – and they relax because they already assume with whom they are dealing.

They immediately realise that it's them, who is more normal in here.

And that, my friend, is the comfiest feeling in the world – let the people think they are normal and you are not… no unnecessary demands for normality. And since I am not the cheerful one - to dye my head with the colour of the sky or a grass – a hat that is for me.

So, a man walks into a room - wearing hat – that's me. Everyone knowingly smiles, feeling casual with me around.

I bow my head in the way a hat-boy does. Let my hair falls into my eyes, to cover them when my hat is already in my hands – because that is etiquette you need to follow. Wish to be a girl and could let it on my head, though. But I am not and for the record, I really don't even want to be. I like boys too much.

Like the one behind the counter – he is my favourite.

He is wearing a white shirt, his bow tie, and an apron. His freckles are not visible from my distance, but I know they are there – and it makes me feel ridiculously happy - the knowing. And his hair is fair as feathers – long enough to cover his pale cheeks. And his only colour is his too beautiful amber eyes and rather red lips. And his name is Remus. And I am in love with him.

I decided about seven months back when I moved there to work for this record company. It is really a nice job. I just sort CDs and other records people gave me to three piles: bad, considerable and great. And my boss trusts me and I feel very powerful. He thinks that my own production is a bit above the considerable and it makes me feel hopeful. If I would make it to the great pile – he would let me record my songs in the studio.

Anyway, I was walking home in the evening, getting a bit lost in the streets that seemed different in the darkened light. And I found this small something. Bakery in the morning and cosy café in the evening. I was starting to feel hungry, so I came in for some sandwich. And there he was, in all of his marvellous calmness.

And I've been coming back ever since.

He puts a croissant on a napkin of too much eager little girl, who has her hair tied in one big bun. He smiles as she runs away from the bakery.

He serves two other customers and here I am.

Hat in my sweaty hands, eyes on his shoulders, because I can't stand his gaze.

James's once told me, that I was so emotional he couldn't stand me sometimes. I certainly know that's true, but there are usually just three emotions that I have.

I am seriously funny with James. – Not cheerful, but funny – I know because he laughs all the time.

The second is anger. – I'm angry with my brother, who was the one, who abandoned. I left, but he abandoned me. I came to him the other night, to tell him that I love him, but he just looked at me without any emotion. He just looked. The second time I've seen him, he was insulting me – so I assumed I should be angry with my parents for breaking him. But truly – they weren't worth the bother.

And then, when I see that man, with pale hands and relaxed muscles – I have this third feeling. And I just know it is sheepishness. I was avoiding it for my whole life, but somehow I can't avoid him.

I am certainly going to grow fat. With this amount of croissants and patisseries I eat every week. I come up here every day. And always it is just:

"An apple pie, please." That's all I've ever said to him.

"1.50 pounds." is all he's ever said to me. I think I would gain a smile or maybe even his "Bon appétit," if I could just look up at him. But I never can and so that's it.

I leave, usually. When it's raining cats and dogs outside, I stay. Eat my pie inside and watch from behind my book.

It's all fake – I don't read. I listen, play and little bit draw. That's who I am. And I listen to him and I draw him and I am drawn to him.

I start with his right hand, sketching the way he pours coffee for the businessman. The way he is focused – because this kind of man could get angry for split coffee. But they never did, he never split it.

* * *

I finish my pie and leave for the rainy morning.

My work is just half an hour from my flat but in that weather, it seems like an eternity. The only dry place on my body is the top of my head. But it's okay, I really don't mind. If I did, I would take my umbrella.

My jacket is even heavier than usually. And it makes me incredibly tired.

"Hello, Sirius, good morning," says a lovely lady, who records bands' songs from the great pile. Her name is Jude and she hates The Beatles.

"Hi."

"Could you turn on the light, please?"

"Sure."

"And… Wait a minute, there is something I need to discuss. What do you think about this one? I know you think it's not even considerable, but it's one of my friends' and I think that if you saw him perform alive, you would have thought differently."

I peep at her and put off my jacket, leaving puddles all over the floor.

"You think so, huh?"

"Yeah really. I've seen him a couple of times and I know this record sucks, but you know, what do you think?"

We can't do this. Our boss is strict about it. No friend benefits. But Jude was my friend, almost the only one here – and if I am somebody, it is loyal. Loyal and trusting.

"So what about you told him to come, he would play there and we would decide then?"

"Would it be okay for you? After your shift?"

"Tonight?"

"Well no, tomorrow? Tonight is too soon."

"Alright then."

"Great."

"Yeah, hope it'll be worthy."

"It will be, I assure you."

I smile and nod, she is never quite sure about anything.

"And Sirius, thanks."

"No problem, you owe me one _Hey, Jude_."

"Ah, right…"

* * *

James calls. He says he's coming for tonight.

I come home in misery. I can't even bring myself to change to dry clothes, and spend my time with my guitar in kind of numbness.

James comes in ten. His odour smells as women perfume. I sort of hate it.

"What's wrong with you, man?" he asks when I hand him his glass of whiskey.

"Just tired. The train outside is waking me up every morning in five."

"..too bad. How's your roommate?"

"He's alright. I almost don't meet him."

"He works so much?"

"No, I don't know. I do, he studies."

"You do? Work hard?"

"I guess, but it's nice really."

James sips his drink, looking thoughtful. "How it's going with your music. Do you still avoid electronic? I can always send you my bass tune."

"No, the only electronic would be mics. I have my vision perfectly clear with faded corners of exciting improvisation."

"I'm truly looking forward to listening to that crap mess, man… Anyway, listen, there is a reason I've actually come."

"I certainly hope so, to visit your old man."

"Well, yes, that's perfectly right and also I've come to invite you to my wedding."

I can't tell if he is pulling my leg, so I glance at him. He looks funny, but not in the hilarious kind of expression.

 _Oh_.

"Well, then I assume this scent you stink is not from some call girl, is it?" I grin.

"No."

I tried to do my best to celebrate with him. The way we always did. No second thoughts, no hesitation, joyful and sincere. But the truth is, my mind wasn't responding.

I _was_ happy for him. I _was_ excited almost as he was, but my brain couldn't project that on my body language. And I know he noticed. I am a bad person.

"Pads?" He called me with my childhood nickname. "I am getting worried."

His legs were on the coffee table, touching mines. We were lying on the floor, limbs in a limbo.

"That's reasonable. If I was getting married with that bird of yours I would be worried _at least_."

"No, you idiot. I'm getting worried about you."

"You shouldn't, I'm doing fine. I have my time, free as an eagle."

"Yes, I see that. So what is it?"

I keep quiet. I never discussed blokes with him.

"I think I miss you all. And I can't get over that prat Reg."

"That's your main problem? So come back! There will always be a place for you with us."

"Right in the love nest of yours? Not happening, besides – I don't really think like I can."

"Why not?"  
"I have a perfect job here. I am in the position I could do my music, that's all I've ever wanted."

"Okay, I ask differently, what about your love life?"

I knew it was coming right from the beginning. James has always been readable like etudes for a child. I sighed.

"Nothing, I don't have one."

"And why exactly we aren't out, getting you some... some…"

I laughed. "What Prongs? You wanna say acquaintance?" as James always puts it.

"Yeah.."

"No – we are celebrating your engagement. Also, I have no chance to meet someone with you by my side."

"I am so handsome, am I not?"

"Yeah – your ego is the greatest one in the world."

* * *

He left early in the morning to catch the train back to London. My head is bad. And I haven't slept at all.

The only bright thing that morning is Remus's hair.

"So, tonight, right?" Jude reminds me.

"Yeah, hope I won't pass out."

The day is long. I fall asleep in the early afternoon after cheap noodle soup from the diner Saint Theresa. It's all watery but hot enough to warm my intestines.

Jude is waking me up at five o'clock for tea she prepares me every day – I never ask, but she is proper English woman. I think I kind of love her, in a platonic way.

"Hey, Carl will be here in six. You have plenty of work I see," she points at my desk full of untouched records waiting to be classified.

"Uh-yes. Sorry." She leaves me to catch up.

The room is dark. Its one and only window is covered with a heavy curtain. I prefer it that way – it's timeless space, tiny, just for me and my work. It helps me focus on music only. And the next best thing about it? I can keep my hat on.

Jude hardly minds. She puts her legs on the precious record table when the boss isn't around.

She doesn't care, but she also loves her job.

I try to do my best to finish my planned work, but I have no chance. I guess I need to come earlier tomorrow. Great.

Carl and his band come. It's just him and two other guys. A guitar drums and a piano.

The piano guy comes up to me in the beginning, his small figure almost lost behind the piano.

"Excuse me. Aren't you a friend of Frank?"

"Frank?"

"Yes, Frank Longbottom."

"He's my roommate, how do you know?"

"He is my co-worker at the movie theatre."

"Yeah, that's right. I know he works there."

"I'm Peter."

"Well, nice to meet you, Peter. Let's get into it, shall we?" I am deadly tired. I'm not feeling like making friends right now.

"Yeah, sure."

It goes well. Carl has quite nice voice – that's the only thing I liked about the record, but Jude was right, they are much better alive. The record we are doing this evening turns out really good. It makes me happy – Jude is happy and they make good music. Not great but good, and it's enough for us.

We finish at half past eight. I think I could fall asleep standing. We close and Jude gives me a bear hug.

"Thank you, Sirius. I will talk to Slughorn about your own recording, okay?"

I smile – she's the best. "You're the best."

"I know, darling." She winks. "Tomorrow."

"Sure," I don't even think about it. I always choose my way so I could pass by the bakery, even if it's a bit farther, just to see him through the shop window.

I should go straight to bed in this state, but I'm not thinking. I am hungry and exhausted.

I order a sandwich and take my place in the farthest corner of the room.

He is also tired – I can see it. His shirt doesn't seem so fresh and his smile is tense.

* * *

I feel someone's hand on my shoulder.

"I am sorry to wake you, but I am closing in five."

I look at the hand and up to meet someone's eyes. Amber.

I jump to my feet, leaving his hand in the air and flip the chair over to the ground. Oh God Almighty. I run my hand through my hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I pick up my bag, my hat, and the untouched sandwich. And the chair.

He turns around. "Take your time, I have to check the kitchen first."

I look at his back. It lacks an apron. He has black trousers, rather threadbare. I realise I have never seen the lower part of his body. It's all skinny. I am a madman, am I not?

I put on my hat and wait with a hand on the door knob. He shows up, turns off the light in the room behind the counter and closes the door.

"Well, thanks… and bye." I say and hurry out.

I feel sick. I skip the shower and curl to my sheets. I feel like the greatest loser of all time, because even though I am exhausted I can't fall asleep. I lay for hours with eyes wide open.

I am thinking about never to show up in the bakery ever again. But my feet don't respond to my brain orders. And I find myself there the very next morning.

It's kinda funny, though. I've never felt so pathetic in my whole life.

"For the fourth table, Alice… Ah, an apple pie, hello," he greets me.

Maybe I should just run away – I can do that, I have fairly fast legs.

"Don't you want to try anything else? We have a lot of other good puff-pastes."

I realise that this is my moment. This is it. I desperately want to be his friend. I bite the inside of my mouth.

"What do you recommend?" And I look up at him. He smiles. At me.

"Well, my favourites are these sweet Choco-cherry rolls."

My face is stony. "Okay, I'll take one."

I am going to eat something he likes. I figure out I am thinking like a girl and I try to stop it.

"Here you are," he says. "Bon appétit."

I thank him and turn to leave. And I feel his smile on my back.

* * *

Lily calls. "Hello, Sirius, I need to tell you something James wouldn't. You need to take a date for our wedding. It's in June, so you have at least two months to find some."

"You are cruel, Lily becoming Potter."

"Get over yourself, Sirius. You know I love you, just… it's wedding and James is gonna be busy and I don't want you standing alone in the corner, besides, you are going to be a best man. You have to look representative."

"I am not such an outsider, Lily, we have plenty of other friends with James, you know?"

"But they are going to have their dates."

"Lily.. I really-"

"Please, Sirius. Give me this for a wedding gift. Just bring someone."

"…"

"Thank you."

"Better don't tell James, he wouldn't be pleased."

"I won't, alright. Thanks."

"Bye Lily."

* * *

I haven't thought I could get any worse. _Maybe I could make Jude come with me._ I think as I am walking to work. _If it would be a woman, nobody would make indecent comments about us being a couple as it would turn out if I would ask Frank. Just friendly accompanist._

However, even though she owes me, she declines.

"No, Sirius, I'm not going to be your excuse for your date."

"You're not, Jude. You're my friend. And I want you to come with me."

"Sirius, I'm hardly your friend. I am your friendly co-worker. My friends are in a stitching club."

"I am highly offended, beetle lady."

"Oh, come on, there are no friend relationships between gay young men and impossibly straight elderly women."

"Really? That's your statement? So what that makes of my help if not a friend's favour?"

"Co-worker favour?"

"Up yours, Jude, really. What's your real reason, tell me."

She rolls her eyes and put on blush, which doesn't suit her very well. "Okay, fine, I was just thinking you would finally find someone if I wasn't your passenger."

"Unbelievable…" I throw my hands in the air. And James doesn't get that I am gay. What's wrong with you, women?

I show her my back but immediately turn around again. "You know, you aren't helping. I'm going to ask my roommate and he is going to come with me and the only thing you accomplish is some stupid talks about us being a couple. It will be awkward and it will spoil my best friend's wedding."

"So you better find some proper date then."

I give her my most black murder look.

It's like the universe conspires on me. _I don't appreciate it; you hear me?!_

I need to rebuild my temper so I go to café for dinner. He isn't here.

I collapse on my chair. What have I been expecting? – that he would be working as insanely as I am? Morning shifts as evening ones? I shouldn't have expected he would be here. I am an idiot.

"Would you like a coffee?" Lady in his apron asks me.

"No, thanks." I better go to bed or I could finish the portrait of Frank I promised him.

She doesn't smile. She looks tired, but still, she gives me the sharp look I haven't deserved.

I go home. The weather is getting really warm and I feel as I'm getting all sweaty under my leather jacket. And my hair is all slick. It would make James joke about me looking like our old schoolmate.

I feel as my feet hurt with heat. But I never really was a shorts-sandals type. Tomorrow won't be better. We have air-conditioner at the work, so it's not so big deal.

Frank is sitting on the couch, his nose in some drama book. He studies drama. My studying ended after the third semester when my teacher told me I had no talent and I should have been doing basketball. So screwed you, I said and took two months of hard work on my music. I did home records and sent it to over a 30 job offers. Two of them answered. One in Birmingham and one here, Manchester. So here I am.

I close the door of my room. It's small, sad and dark – as my soul. Walls are in the weird shade of grey and red that supposed to be a brick as Frank has told me. Curtains are drawn and the lamp on my bedside table is still turned on. I should be more careful.

I open the window and check my e-mails.

There is one from my boss about usual instructions and one from Peter – the piano guy. He asks me about Frank's birthday next month. He plans to throw a party in our flat. I don't mind.

I know what James would say, I know what every friend of mine would say: "Make some new friends." As if they weren't at all happy with being one.

I take my guitar and sit on the bed, facing the open window. It's warm and it's evening. All my favourite things. I should be happy. I am happy.

* * *

It has been so warm that it's raining in the morning. Screw you, English weather.

I need a holiday; I realize – just two days off on the beach or river would be enough. Just me and my music. It could be perfect.

I am not talking to Jude; I am still offended. However, the boss comes at four o'clock to talk with me about my music. She keeps her word.

I know who she is. She is the moral type. I am the loyal one. I would go with my friend's lie anytime, I would take everything on me for them. I know I would. But she is always thinking about the Greater Good. I frankly don't care about the good or bad. I believe in the good of the moment. I live for the moment. I feel too deeply. I know I do. All of my three feelings.

"Listen, Sirius, I need one more record from you. You can use our stuff here… just two, three songs, but the CD you've given me isn't enough. I hear the train in the background – it would have been okay if it had been mixed or recorded on purpose but it obviously hadn't been."

"I know, you are right."

"So take some time, ask Jude and record something in here. I will listen to it and then we could have a talk."

"Great, thanks."

"But Sirius, it should be rather good – I really like the last one and I would be really disappointed if you won't make it just great. Are we clear?"

"Yes, understood, sir."

"Excellent."

* * *

I am starting to play at the expense of my work. One day. It's not so bad. I am so excited I have to call James and he is happy with me. I decide to send an e-mail to Peter. I could use a piano. Plus, I think that even Frank's girlfriend plays the cello. I can't stand to sit and focus, so I excuse myself and leave earlier.

Remus has an evening shift. I even smile at him. I stick around just to eat my sandwich, taking small sketches of him with my artistic eye - for later. My book is placed in front of me like a medieval shield of an old warrior – I am defending my secret.

"That's ridiculous, Alice. _You_ are ridiculous."

"No, really. You are blinded by your personality."

"My vision is perfectly clear, thank you very much." It's Remus's talk. Unusually not calm.

"Sure, darling, so it would be alright if I just go and ask him." I look up and notice a tall brunette woman making her way in my direction. My eyes automatically catch as Remus stands behind the counter all in an awkward position; hands, teeth and even his breath caught. I put down the book with a confident look.

"Hi, Excuse me. I and my co-worker are having an argument whether you are actually reading or not. In my point of view, you are at the same page over a week now and the week before you were almost finishing the book and now you are somewhere in the middle. However, he doesn't get what else you would be doing with it. So, who is right?"

I try to embrace my panic with the cocky smirk I always put on in these situations. It's not working so well. I have no backup this time. Since the time I'm finally on my own I've been losing my crest.

I slip the book under my arm, putting my hat on. "Of course, I am reading, what do you think?" I take my jacket, get her my smile of the month and get off.

"Go after him," she says to my back. I'm not quite sure who she's talking to, but Remus answers.

"Back off. Why should I? He's coming tomorrow."

I am outside. Confused as hell.

* * *

I am almost scared to walk in next morning. The first I notice is Remus apologizing smile. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.

"Hey, I'm sorry for yesterday. She can be really annoying sometimes."

"That's alright. I don't mind, really."

He smiles. "So, J. M. Barrie is your favourite?"

I am prepared. I spent all yesterday's night reading and I actually finished it. I am safe now.

"Yeah, it is."

"Interesting… I prefer L. Frank Baum, of that time."

I am quiet. I can't relate. I haven't read much anything else, so I just smile, take my bag with a pie and leave.

That's nice, I realize. I can talk to him once, twice a day. I haven't even dared to hope for it.

* * *

"Hey Jude," I call from the door. She smiles at me – probably glad we are "co-worker friends" again. I decided to ignore Lily's task – or postpone it.

"So we are equal now, right?" She assumes.

"Not really, my lovely colleague, you have just one mission left for me," I grin at her, she raises her eyebrows.

"Would you record three of my songs next week?"

"Oh, really Sirius? Congratulation!"

"No, it's not congratulation yet. It's just pre-record for Slughorn. I promised him to make some proper records, so we have to do it in our free time – is it okay?"

"Even so, I'm thrilled," she seems so.

"Well it's your merit, so thanks."

"You are welcome. So next week, though."

"Yeah… and I've been thinking I would take a day off on Friday – and take some time to prepare, you know – over the weekend? Would you mind?"

"No, you're here most of the time, so I really wouldn't."

I smile. And she thinks we are just co-workers.

This afternoon a guy of business and a lawyer come to take records Jude did last week. They sit on the couch of the waiting room and listen to them. One of them is quite excited about the CD of Carl's and Peter's band. And Jude and I make a high five. It's the first of ours.

I take my Whisper girl from the storage and put my guitar on my back. A helmet doesn't change my hat. I drive too fast for anyone to stop me.

The only thing I've got from my family is this cabin. In the woods outside the town.

"Alright," I say to the empty shed. "I've got three days, let get to work."

I've bought some empty sheets for Peter and Frank's girlfriend, which I'm going to fill with my notes, so they would know what to play.

I make myself a coffee and put some blanket on the grass. The weather is perfect. And I sigh with contentment.

I mail to Peter and Frank, both of them seems really enthusiastic. Frank promises me he would ask his girlfriend to visit us on a Sunday evening, so I could get to know her a bit.

As my excitement grows – I expect I would become more nervous simultaneously, but it has never happened.

As I leave the cabin, two days later, I have three papers of notes for me – the vocal improvements and the guitar bases. I even consider using some tones of a bass guitar, even though I do strictly acoustic.

I used to have plenty of gadgets back home – it's nice I don't need actually anything else but me and a guitar for my music. Even drums I make using hands and things around.

I open the door of my apartment much later than I have expected. There was an accident on the road when I was passing the town's suburbs. And there was a traffic jam even my Whisper wasn't able to break through.

"Hey, Sirius, in the kitchen."

"What's up, Frank?"

He stands in front of the cooker, his hands in the steam of a frying pan.

"Do you want some?" He points to his creative masterpiece, stirring noodles.

His girlfriend is sitting on the kitchen table, giggling as she reads some book, her legs waving in the air. And she's unpleasantly familiar.

She gazes at me. Her eyes are wide. My eyes are wide.

"That's Alice, Alice – Sirius. You are very nice to meet each other."

"Oh my God," she says.

Oh _my_ God _._

She eventually smiles. With genuine pleasure.

"So, _you_ are Sirius – and you want my cello skills, huh?"

I'm trying very hard to not look as bad as I feel.

"I guess that's right."

"Well, I will gladly help you, what do you get for me?" She asks – leaving her book on the table.

I fight with the zip of my rucksack for a while and then I hand her the cello part.

And then we talk about it and my insecurity fades away like yesterday's mist.

She freezes for a moment. "So, what you are trying to say… I don't have much of a melody? There are about… three parts, where I play more than five tandem notes. And then there is like about twelve bars despaired over your 15 minutes of music?"

"Yeah," I say, thrilled she understood.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, as simple as that."

"I feel unused, actually."

"I think that's positive, darling," Frank says, offering us our plates.

"What kind of music is that, anyway?" She doesn't sound mean, just really interested.

"I don't know. I like the unclassified, multi-genre adjective."

"And Peter's part is as empty as mine?" She assures herself.

"Yeah, sort of. It's actually much emptier." –but it's the pauses that matter.

"Okay? And vocals? Guitar? Drums? That's all you?"

Does she think I am making a band? Doesn't she see I am a solitaire? Her question tries to make me insecure again, but she doesn't have a chance.

* * *

The big day of recording is on Friday.

On the day before I lay with my head on the couch cushions, my hat on my face, trying to take a short nap before one last rehearsal.

There is too much to handle – Alice's mood, my cracked voice, other people's persuasions... And I need a break of all of that.

There is a kick to the couch. "Wake up. We have visitors." Frank orders.

"Screw you, Longbottom. Take them to your room." I turn to face the couch, letting my hat drop to the floor.

"Not happening."

"Do you want a tea?" That's Alice talking. I'm going to ignore her.

I should be nicer to her – since she's doing me a favour – but she isn't very nice to me, so I am not either.

However, they're doing such a noise in the kitchen that would wake a troll up. Thus, I sit up to leave to my room when I see him.

He's standing in front of Frank's drama bookshelf, hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed.

Oh my God. Oh my God. What The hell is he doing here? In my private zone? Why is he looking embarrassed? What have I done, what have I said? Was I cursing? _What_ was I murmuring?

He notices my attention.

"Oh, hello," he tries to smile. "I'm sorry to be obtrusive. I've thought we are going to the cinema, but Alice's needed to take a stop here." He points to the kitchen with his head.

"I see," I extend. Not see at all.

He looks to the coffee table, where is a mess of sheets, notes, cups and sketches of Frank and our kitchen tools. I hurry up with the tidying.

"Hey, come up here – which one do you want?" Alice shouts and Remus leaves to the kitchen.

I try to arrange the stuff on my desk in my room, leaving the door slightly, politely open.

My legs start to shake, so I sit down to my chair, embracing the guitar – that has always helped- somehow it doesn't now.

There is knock on my door, and then there is Remus in my door – steaming mug in his hand.

"Sorry again, but the two of them seem to have some business with each other." He's entering, catching sights of all of the corners of my room. Oh, Jesus – he is in my room. How that have happened? Something must have gone terribly wrong, or terribly right if that's not equal. I've had to do something for the greater good to deserve it. And I feel unpleasantly exposed.

"Is that me?" he points to one sketch in the middle of hundreds of others on the wall.

I don't know if I've ever had the chance to lie.

"It quite well might be, yes."

"Nicely done."

I am silent. I can't even thank him.

"So… I've heard that you have some big deal tomorrow."

"I guess."

"Alice plays cello for you, right?"

"That's right."

He is scanning the rest of my room in one long motion of his eyes. Then he smiles at me, as embarrassed as before.

"It's awkward really, I don't think we're going to see films anymore."

"That's what Alice's told you?"

"No, that's what Alice hasn't told me – and that's actually the way she talks to me."

I chuckle. "Yeah, I can imagine."

"I think she just needed someone to walk her here through the dark streets. She's one terrible alarmist. She should be fairly sure I'm not the bodyguard type, though. I'm not sure who was walking whom actually."

 _Is he making jokes?_

A smile makes its way to my face. "Yeah, I guess she would just play a victim to confuse the villain."

"That's right – he would be so confused he wouldn't realize that the potential victim could be me… or I could give him one of my wild looks to scare him."

That was so unimaginable I burst out laughing.

"Almost silly, right? Almost like seeing you laughing."

I pause and look at him. "That's a bull-"

"How's so? … You always look so grumpy."

"Oh – that's so not true."

"Is it not?"

"No." The sheepishness is back when he sits on my bed. _Oh God_. Is the sheet going to smell after him?"

"So you're a musician, huh? What's your music like?" He sips his tea.

"Well," I clear my throat. "I believe it's like life."

His eyebrows are up.

"Full."

"Full of what?"

I shrug. "What's life full of?"

"Will you play something?" He points to the guitar in my lap.

I hesitate for a quite a long time but he's patient.

I play one short melody, which is a part of a song I've called surroundings.

"That's all?" he seems disappointed. I don't know what to say.

"That was really nice – how's it you don't have more of it? Also… you don't sing?"

"And now what – you want the whole performance?" I am not offended, more pleased actually. I am so not going to sing for him.

"Yeah sure, give me all you've got." He smiles challenging.

"Do you do music?" I ask instead.

"No, not really. I can't play anything. I'm a more literate person."

I'm quiet for a while.

"The things I do are more like… harmonic. I don't really have much of lyrics or melodies."

"I can't imagine what you are talking about… Do you think I could come tomorrow?"

It seems like he really wants to be my friend.

"You want to?"

"Yes, sure."

"It wouldn't be much of a fun to watch."

"Still. I haven't seen anything alike."

He wants to see me doing the only thing I actually can. I am so amazed I can hardly think about anything else.

* * *

I spend whole my morning time listening to music. That is my job, I know, but I'm not doing it properly. I just know I'm not paying much attention I just use it to turn my bloody idiotic brain off.

It's not professional – I will be so late next Monday.

Jude makes me tea and I notice after half an hour when it's already cold.

It's half past six when I start preparing. I tune my guitar, try the piano mic, prepare a chair for Alice, things I use for drums and other mics. Jude's starting to get her record desk set when they come.

Frank thinks it's one big joke. He walks in with his video camera in his hands. He thinks he's going to do some super document or something.

I am hardly minding – I can't really focus on anything else but my music. I am so excited and nervous I can't stand still. So I am making fast orders to Peter and Alice, explaining to everyone what I am about to do. Peter is pleased I've asked him and he smiles all the time. It's quite the opposite with Alice. She gets offensive every time when I tell her how to play her instrument. She's more a classical player I can tell, so she is not happy to produce sounds I am asking for from her cello. But she is accepting the idea in the end.

We are all set, the three of us sitting in the recording room, Jude has her hands on her desk, Frank on his camera. And then there is Remus, standing with them behind the glass in the next room. His shoulders are pushed forward as always and I realize it's because of his posture he has right now. His arms are folded and he has his head bowed like I do when I am around him – insecure, with a lack of confident – as I don't know what I am doing in the very moment. I can't think about him right now I wouldn't do anything if I would. So I turn that part of my attention off.

"Okay," I say to the mic. "We can start with the first song called The Whisper's Reach. Peter, you are in in the middle, after my lyrics are off, after the Major C chord… Alice, you start and then you are at the very end."

"Yeah, I know Sirius, for the fifth time, I know…"

I look at her, not bothering to be offended.

"Right. Fine. So let's do it, Jude?"

"Ready in one-two-three- go."

I nod at Alice and she starts to play. I join her after the fifth bar.

It collapses when Peter sneezes when I should start singing. Alice burst out laughing. I am annoyed but amused a bit too. It's just ironic.

We start all over again. Alice – and me in the fifth bar.

Then she stops and it's just me and my guitar – as it always has been. I am a little nervous. I'm singing in front of many people – who should be my friends, but I don't actually know them so much. And I am singing about my runaway. I should get used to it, so I try to push it down. I hear my voice trembling in the end, but I think it's artistic. I don't mind it on the record actually.

But we record the song three times more till I am satisfied. However, nobody is annoyed. And Jude has an amazed look in her eyes.

Then it's just me in the record room doing drums with the headphones on. I have to close my eyes to focus. I also have had to leave my hat on the chair for this time. I am whistling and clapping and many other things that Jude will have to add and turn into music.

Jude is mixing it up and then we all listen to the result. She smiles at me. "It's good, Sirius." She says and I know what she means. I am walking for my CD deal.

I would grin if I wouldn't be nervous about the second song. It's the best one I have ever made, at least I think so. I will be terribly disappointed if it is not going to be just perfect.

"How is the next one called?" Frank asks.

"It's surroundings." It expresses my feelings I've felt when I've been around my family. Anger, loneliness, and despair. It has about ten verses – dashed through whole six minutes of music. I know Alice doesn't really like that one. When we are done with it, she keeps her sceptic look on her face. I don't mind. I know my music isn't for everyone.

When I sang the first verse: "Your blood is fine," she made a weird noise of amusement. That made me stop and we had to start over.

I make the perfect contrast between the words and the music. Words that they were trying to make my own and I try to mock it with music.

Alice seems like she doesn't understand that. It's not really encouraging. But again, Jude has an approving smile.

We are running out of time. It's almost nine when we get to the last song.

Frank is still dedicated to his document nonsense and tries to interview Jude. In the way she hates, must be said. Peter is trying to persuade Alice that it's normal to play just five bars in the whole piece. And Remus is standing still – as always; his hands in his pockets, looking lost.

I have an idea – and I'm terrified just to think of that.

"Hey," I start the conversation.

He smiles.

"So, what do you think?"

He scratches his nape. "I don't know what to say to not sound dumb."

I have to bite the inside of my mouth. I don't want to laugh.

"I think it's overwhelming." He seems sincere, but I am not really sure.

"You know; I could really use your help."

He raises his eyes with surprise. "Really? You do?"

"Yeah."

"Okay..? What can I do?"

I take him to the record room and sit him down on a chair, placing a mic in front of him.

I sniff to release the pressure in my lungs.

"There is the time when I am going to play very slowly, later I will add noises and other sounds… so I am thinking I need something more human, so… if you could improvise, you know – like exhale and sigh to the rhythm. It really doesn't matter when or how."

I blush deed for the thing I am asking for.

"Well, I could try, but I am not sure if…"

"Try is good," I assure him.

(I ask Frank to do it too, so I wouldn't be so embarrassed. His job is to sniff sharp and fast after every verse.)

* * *

"Okay, the third and the last one is called Life. I will play it once alone, so you could imagine the mood. Then you will join me." Immediately as I start with the first tones I am getting all gloomy.

Maybe I should do something less autobiographic.

" _In the shadows of the night_

 _I've been hiding almost all my life."_

I am starting to strum and sigh and hum. I finish with deep exhale and after a while one sharp inhale.

The next time it's also Frank's time – he's making sharp sniffs every time I finish a verse – the only rap feature I let myself add.

 _"_ _In the beam of the light_

 _I've been trying to find a safe way out."_

Remus is making gasps and sighs in the peaceful part – with Alice's playing, with Peter's pony notes.

 _"_ _..when there always were none."_

I've recorded noises I love and hate. Boiling water, bird's singing… and the train Slughorn has mentioned.

Jude composes it all together. And I think it's amazing. I keep glancing at the others and they are all too focus to notice. – That's a good sign, right?

Alice seems pleased after all. And she gives me a punch to the back and grins cheerfully. That's probably the best reaction I could get from her. I am starting to accept her in a weird way.

Jude looks exhausted but satisfied. She hands me a CD, the other one she puts to the file of new records. I'm in, I realise and feel as my muscles were tense the whole time. My throat is sort and I feel the ache in my shoulders.

Peter asks gently if I could send him the records and that makes me smile in the most joyful way. He smiles back and then he is the first one out.

"So, Sirius, how do you feel in the exact moment?" Frank asks, viewfinder in his eye again, pointing the camera at me.

"Get off, Frank." I raise a hand with a laugh I feel like being drunk.

"All right everyone, out! I am closing." Jude shouts.

I set the record room in its order and cover the piano. Frank wraps his arm around Alice's waist. "Bye kids, we are getting out for The Night."

"Thanks, Sirius," Alice smiles. "For the experience."

"Yeah and we all know you do everything for The Experience, right Alice?" Remus pushes.

I feel I'm missing something and realise I'm still the new one here.

"Shut up, Remus," she narrows her eyes and leaves with a wave.

And just now I notice what is happening.

We walk outside my guitar on my back.

"Thank you, Jude," I hug her and she says: "Yeah, yeah. We are equal now, dear co-worker."

"Sure, goodnight."

"Night."

And she is leaving to the centre.

"Which way are you going?" I ask.. _Just keep talking and it'll be alright_.

He points to the way I go to the café.

"Okay."

Remus nods and slides his hands to his pockets.

"So what will you do with that record?"

I shrug. "My boss will listen to it and hopefully, he will make a contract with me."

"And then?"

"Then I would do proper CD – with booklet and everything."

"And that's your dream?"

"The CD?"

"To make music."

"Well, sure, yeah. That's my dream I suppose."

We are walking in silence and then I take my chances.

"Listen, don't you want a get some bear or something? I don't really think I want to go home yet." I am aware that's taking my straight chances, but relationships could be complicated, right?

"Okay, sure." He nods again and asks. "Where do you want to go?"

It's just now I realise I don't know any bars here. Since I've come here, leaving James's family, my family behind, I've had the feeling I've become an absolutely different person, dedicated to music and work, not really socializing with other people. And since I'm far from James and our common friends to whom I dedicated my life before, I've lost my permanent happy mood. And now – it's the first time I'm out making a new friend.

"I don't really know any places here."

He looks at me with a surprise I would be looking at myself if that was possible.

"Okay, well, we could just go to the place of Genie in the Lamp. It's close from here."

"Fine."

And so we walk in the tired silence until we get inside. It's just like you would imagine it. Blue and insufficient lights, red carpets, round tables, smoky atmosphere, magical components hanging from the ceiling. Everything but fancy. It's old and wrecked and there are some unbelievably odd looking regulars. I am torn between adore and disgust.

He takes orders and we find some place in the almost crowded room. He sips. I sip. And we stare at the table.

"Don't you want to get a band?" he asks.

"What?"

"It's just you, you don't want someone to play with?"

"Well, I don't know. I almost haven't thought about it properly."

"Peter and Alice seemed happy to play with you."

"Yeah…"

"…"

"But, you know… my music is really personal, and I. … And it could get weird: The don't understand the meanings and I don't really want to tell them and so one. I am better on my own."

"I got your point. I wouldn't want to be scammed either."

I look at him.

There is this point when you are certain that you love someone. I don't know if I love him. I am certain that I am in love with him. Just now I feel the difference. How could I love someone when I don't know almost anything about him? Is that even possible? To love without knowing? To love the face, the gestures, the kindness and calmness and small details of his affections … and with that love the complete person?

It's funny but I'm not amused.

"What's your story?"

He winks. "My story?"

"Yeah." I sip the froth and wipe my lips. "What's the story of your life, what's your dream?"

He bites his lips and focuses on the table. It's wet and rough and sticky. It reminds me of my evenings with James – talking about nonsense till the early morning when we were both too tired to left the pub. Could that be the same with Remus? I can't imagine. Would I even want that? I don't want to be his drinking buddy.

"I want to study English lit. That's why I work in the bakery. I need to save some money."

I should expect he's not going to be a simple man.

"Oh, I noticed this literate concern."

He laughs. "Right, well, that's it. It's really not so much to talk about me."

Is he just that modest character or is he actually leaving out something important on purpose? I can't tell, but he looks sort of ashamed. And too eager of drinking. I don't want to push him. I would push James [right off a cliff] but he is like the opposite of him.

"How old are you?"

He coughs – surprised by my question.

"Twenty? Why?"

I shrug. "It's just that I couldn't really tell. You are the ageless type. You could be thirty as well as sixteen."

"You must be joking," he is laughing really hard and his hair is falling to his face. It's fairly adorable. "Everyone I know is telling me I look like an old man in the child's body."

"Well I wouldn't put it that way but I got the picture," I smile. "Then it's not so surprising."

"What?"

"The aura of wisdom around you."

He chuckles. "Yeah, right. That's not what they've meant actually."

"No?"

"No."

I laugh and feel as my muscles are starting to relax again. I sigh.

"Hm."

We sit in quiet even though the pub is loud and a bit aggressive. I hear television and some sport on. I'm not paying much attention. The lamp on our table isn't working and the shade is in the awful colour of green that was blue once, at least I think, with stains of mayonnaise and ketchup. I am not hungry anymore.

"You don't want to study?" He asks after a long time when we are having second pints.

"No. I've tried, but the only thing I really want to do is what I am doing now. And I don't need a university for it."

"So you just want to stay dumb all your life?"

I choke, the beer is coming through my nostrils in a not exactly pleasurable way. I want to laugh but I am still choking.

He smiles apologetically. "I mean… you know. Are you fine with the knowledge you've got in secondary school? I'm asking because I am hardly satisfied… besides, you know that saying: Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

He is joking, he must be joking.

"I've never been the studying type, you know?"

"I see. You're the living person – alright I've got the picture."

"What picture?"

"You know, a bohemian way of life through drugs, booze, sex and rock 'n roll. Kerouac and all."

"It's not like I wouldn't know him – it's just I am a musician, so more like Cobain or something."

"Right, that's that."

I am amused.

"I am not like that, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, have you heard me playing? I care about things."

"Sure," he says, but he is looking downward, not so convinced.

"I do care about my life."

He smiles. "Sure, right."

I pay, he complains. Then we are out. And I'm not feeling so great as I should be given the circumstances.

"I am going this way," he points to the other street.

"Alright – do you want an escort." It _is_ a joke, sort of…

He grins. "Yeah, very funny. Goodnight Sirius."

I stare at his back for a few minutes then I turn to face my home.

* * *

Few days pass and I feel the urge to speak with him again – and not in the bakery.

"Morning," I greet him – sooner than usually – I have so much work; I am late about three days and the day of catching up is today.

"Hello, what can I get you?" He smiles

"What do you think?" I raise an eyebrow.

He chuckles without actually opening his mouth. Calm as ever. And I want to make him laugh again. So hard he would fall to the ground bursting chuckles all around the floor like Cheerios cereals, losing his normal quietness, his calm majesty… even though I love them.

"Listen, since I really don't know here almost anybody, don't you want to go for a beer or something sometime again?"

Am I asking him out? I am asking him out. It's normal, though, right? I mean straight normal – among blokes and so, right? Oh gosh, I should have more experience.

He smiles widely. "Would be my pleasure. I could use some time away from this place. I think the cook is going to make me nuts sometime soon." He adds in a whisper voice.

I grin. "I would like to see that." I hardly can imagine it.

"You wouldn't. Trust me." And he has a strange serious feature in his look. "So tonight? I don't have evening shift."

"I'm too busy today, tomorrow?"

"The day after?"

"The day after."

* * *

Jude looked through me with her x-ray eyes the day after my recording and she just announced: "Remus."

I rolled my eyes and my face went all crooked. I wasn't any near to pleased for her to knew.

"Hmph," I made that noise people do when they don't want to talk about something. But she couldn't not say at least: "You were quite obvious, dear. Why don't you ask him to be your accompanist?"

"Because I hardly know him. It wouldn't be even normal. We aren't such friends yet."

"You don't want to be his friend, honey, I saw the way you looked at his arse."

"Shut up, Jude. I don't need your advice."

"Alright, I'm quiet." And she really wasn't speaking, but she gave me the most sympathetic look of pure pity. And since then she has been looking at me with her mother concern. I truly hate that. So I don't really speak to her much. Nevertheless, she still makes me tea.

I am working hard today. About 15 by the end of the morning. 40 left.

Jude comes in to check on me in six in the afternoon if I am still alive.

"I am going home, Sirius, are you sure you want to be closing tonight?"

"Yeah." I rub my eyes – they are red and aching – but the worst pain comes from the ears – due to my headphones. "I have about ten CDs to go."

"Okay. Make sure you turn off the lights."

"Yes ma'am," I murmur but smile. She is guarding myself.

I feel really lonely, but in some excited state – that I actually can perceive the music. However, it's about ten when I feel as my vision narrows and I am in a deep sleep with the background of bad pile music.

It's almost seven in the morning when I wake up. My body hurts in the oddest way – I feel like a moron. I have still 3 records left – and it's really ridiculous.

 _I need coffee_ … and with that though I put my hat on.

* * *

"Oh, you are looking really fine, Sirius – did you have a slept over?" I look down on myself. I look normal. I have just the same clothes as yesterday, and since I change just T-shirts and underwear it takes quite an observant to notice. I blush.

"Yeah, actually. I slept with my work if you need to know."

"Oh, poor you. Your back must be aching really bad."

I look at him, he smirks. He is being sarcastic. I haven't noticed he is capable of such thing – and how is it he's become even more attractive with that? I frown.

He hands me my pie.

"Well," I realise, "I've actually come for coffee."

He laughs and I am blank.

"Alright, just a moment." He pours coffee for me and I hand him cash.

"Thanks," I wave and leave.

* * *

He is gone. I don't know where. He hasn't told me anything. It's already a week or so. But it's really weird.

I've asked Alice really gently where he was or when he was going to be back – but she's just shrugged and said she had no idea and that I shouldn't be obtrusive. By this time – he is my friend as well as hers. She's had no right to be so hard on me. However, he would have told me if he wanted to, but he didn't. And that's what bothers me. The wedding is in two weeks now. And I've actually wanted to ask him to join me. He would understand – I made pretty clear he is my only true friend here. Alice is too edgy and Frank hasn't really so much time to spend it with me. And I need some friend. I know it and by this time he knows it too and he's too good to not be one for someone who asks.

He has Alice here; she is his friend for years I've learned, but he is solitaire in life as I am solitaire in music, sort of.

But he hasn't told me and I am worried – maybe he's started to notice the face I make every time he laughs or makes that stupid move of embarrassment with his left hand. Maybe he's noticed and decided to change his job, his place, his apartment…

… yeaaah, totally probable.

After the next two days, I find myself listening to my record of the _Life_ song, trying to catch the sounds he made. But after what seems like 20 times, I have to turn it off because it starts to turn me on and I haven't reached _that_ rate of patheticalness yet, at least I think.

He comes back on Monday morning. He seems exhausted, his shirt isn't ironed and every time someone calls his name he drops the thing he is holding. His gaze is normal, though, so he seems to notice the attention he gets and that makes him rather angry. However, he doesn't say a word and just keeps biting his lips.

I come back in the evening. That used to be normal for us – to talk until the last customer leaves. Now, he's avoiding my eyes.

I don't ask.

I don't want to seem as I would give anything just for some sort of explanation and I know he will appreciate my polite distance to whatever he's dealing with.

"It's stupid, right?" he says eventually.

"Excuse me?"

"This situation. Stupid."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

He gives me a look and a smirk.

"Us, trying to talk like we always do – you pretending you are not at all curious, me pretending I'm not at all.."

"Not at all what?"

"Here we go," he smiles a bit nicely.

"Yeah, right. What could you expect?"

"Nothing less, nothing more."

He closes and locks the door of the café behind him.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on with you, or should I just, you know, try to guess and stay with it?"

"Genie?"

"Okay."

He is all quiet as we walk there. All nervous again… I can tell he's about to open.

I sit and I think I'm even more nervous than he is. Why is he nervous anyway?

"So?" I push him.

"Well," he drinks. He unusually ordered some whiskey and he is grimacing like it would be made of fire. He is not a drinker, I can tell.

"I am not quite normal," he announces _. I know_ , I think. _You are special_.

My silence pushes him instead of me, though.

"Gah. How to put it?" He slides his hand over his face. "I have this disorder, that once in a while comes up… and it's bad." He glances at me and immediately looks away. "Like, I don't know who I am, I can't control myself. I barely sleep and … when I feel it's coming they need to lock me up in the room for prevention self-destruction. They told me, anyway… It's not like I could remember any of it. It's like a split personality. And you really don't know what the other guy is doing."

I stare at him. He looks at me and looks down. Repeat. Up and down. Up and down.

"Now is probably the time you should say something."

I try to decipher his features, but he is saying what he is saying. Nothing more. I am not clever enough to know what to say to something this huge. Then I look down.

"I'm sorry," I say. That occurs as a first good thing. I want to hug him. That seems good too, probably too good, but I don't dare.

"How… how often it hits you?"

"Three, four times a year. It's getting longer, though. When I was a kid it took one or two hours. Now it's about three days or so… And the recovery is complicated." He's avoiding my eyes again. I know what he's doing. He doesn't want to see pity. There is just the ocean. A Huge wave of affection mixed with deeper waters of sadness and salty foam of anger. If that means it's the pity ocean, then I am sorry even more. And the ocean is silent for a very long time.

"I want to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Would you go to my best friend's wedding with me? His fiancé is making some big reception and she made everyone come up with a date so nobody would be bored. And since I don't have any I was hoping you could, you know, accompany me and make her sure I wouldn't end up sleeping of boredom before midnight."

He is looking at me and I have truly no idea what he's thinking. I am in the deep colour of red. That happens when you are asking somebody on the date without letting them know they are asked. The dark room is a great cover, though.

"When is it?" he asks simply.

"14th. There will be plenty of delicious food, gallons of champagne, pretty bridesmaids. As I know Lily, she has everything planned to the slightest detail."

He smirks. "I can imagine… Sure, I'd like to. Need to check my shifts, but I think it should be alright. You've said they live in London, don't they?"

"That's right. Since I am the best man I should be there a bit sooner, so… I could pick you up at the station if that's okay?"

"Sure, it is."

"Great," I grin. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I'd be doing otherwise."

He smiles back and when we are saying goodbyes he hugs me.

"Thanks," he says. "For not letting it be a big deal."

It's a man hug. Not fairly the same as I would like to give him, but it's not important at the moment because I am his friend. And I'm loyal. And he trusts me after all. And he appreciates my way of dealing with his trouble. And… And… And so many ands.

"No problem," I say through a lump in my throat. He smells like lemon and coffee. And smoke from the pub.

"How is it you don't smoke?" He asks, leaving already in his way.

"Why should I? I've told you I care about my life."

"It's just… the way you dress. It would suit you well." He grins.

"Do you actually want me to die of a hopping cough?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, of _cour_ se. You _are_ actually that dumb after all, aren't you? The hopping cough, sure." He waves and leaves me on the corner.

Didn't he catch the joke? Of _cour_ se, I know that you can't get the hopping cough from smoking. I'm not an idiot. I frown even more.

 _It is a big deal. It is a big deal._ I keep repeating. He's so fragile. I would never tell him, but I noticed all those scars he is trying to hide every time I am staring too long. The absolute porcelain white scar, short but surely very bleeding once, just below his left ear. The long almost unnoticeable on upper of his right cheekbone. And so many different ones on his hands. He is skinny and his tallness isn't helping either. He looks like really thin pine, breakable even by wolf's howling.

I try to suppress my panic.

 _It is not a big deal. It is not a big deal_. You can't look him in the eyes every time and imagine him making himself those injuries. You can't always look like you would like to put your arms around him and never let go. You are a friend. You are loyal. Remember? _Remember_?

I feel blood on my tongue. I bit myself hard. My mother's always said it's blood that makes things clearer. Like, if you don't know what to choose, choose your blood. It's simple as that.

It's not helping. And I'm glad. I wouldn't be listening to that voice anyway.

I am starting to freak out. Remus should have told me more. I should have asked more questions. The worst thing that could happen is to let my imagination fly away. It has quite stable wings and is a free-thinker. How bad is bad anyway? Is he aggressive just to himself or even to the others? Is it possible he would get better? How could he be hiding such a secret all along? Is it even _safe_ for him to work?

There is nobody in our apartment. The calmness and these pictures stuck to the wall make my blood pressure decrease finally. Surely there is a reason why I need to be naked underneath my cover; why I need to feel my knees pushing to my chest and my forehead resting on them. I was almost lost again. I almost started to fell as my life is starting to fall apart again. I knew it. I knew it back then what was happening and I know it now. I could handle myself around others, but once I am left alone I don't really know what to do to stop those panic voices. And it is Remus imperfect face I am staring at now that save me from losing it. My pencil is a bit rough for his fine features but exact. It is him and my shoulders finally hit the pillow. Long deep exhale. It is him. I wipe my cheeks. It is him and it isn't a big deal.

* * *

Two days till the wedding, and I am driving my Whisper through London streets. I don't know why, but London's always been driving me crazy. Not one of my thirty job applications has been in London. I just couldn't stand the rush anymore. I would love big cities if people could just slow down for a while – enjoy the moment. That's what I've been telling James all the time – enjoy the moment, it's never going to be the same. I try to enjoy the ride, but it's dull and grey and I just feel my hair curls of the evening due – that particular I don't mind – but it's cold and I don't like cold.

The Bahamas would be perfect for me, I guess. Or Hawaii even better. I could be playing at evening shows for tourists. That could be pretty funny actually. When I imagine that, I feel the heat.

"Oh Sirius, welcome back. So nice to see you again. How do you do?"

It's James's mum. And she really looks pleased for seeing me.

"Fine, Mrs. P., thanks for asking. How are you all these days?"

"Huh, you know, my son's getting married. In twenty. Huh, you know, excited."

She is out of her mind, I can see. She's being her and smile with nostalgic.

His dad gives me a hug. It's so James's style I have to try very hard not to be scared of it. It's not like he's never hugged me before, but he's never been so emotional and simultaneously far away in his thoughts.

And then I am in "my" room and I don't know what to do. James wants me to prepare my speech, but I have already covered it. Tonight is the stag night. James insisted on throwing it on the day before, so he would be at his best for the bride on his wedding day.

I'm a bit excited to meet our old friends. Henry Abbott is preparing the party, which is great since it should be my job as a best man, but I'm not living here anymore, so Henry promised to do it because he can't make it to the wedding. I bought him my favourite whiskey as a thank you.

The night's going okay. We are having fun and James isn't nervous at all, but I think it will come soon enough.

I drink bitter the whole evening plus one of Henry's welcome drinks. It's James favourite cognac.

He's good, Abbott. Wish to be in touch with him more, but we never really talk much.

There is just James's mum when we arrive back home. She takes her son by a sleeve and asks him.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Sure, mummy." He's drunk but still manages to stand on his own legs.

"Alright, goodnight then." She slaps his shoulder and leaves the kitchen. He drinks a glass of water and the first sip he spits out to the sink. I don't think he's going to brush his teeth.

* * *

It's ten a.m., Saturday.

I take a tube to the King's Cross and as I am waiting at the platform I keep repeating: "It's not a date. It's not a date."

I am wearing the best pair of socks I own and the underwear T-shirt, which I assume as my lucky one. Just for James. I hope I won't screw his wedding. I shouldn't be so nervous, but I am.

I clench my fists inside my front pockets so I get a bit stress out.

The wedding starts at 13:00.

Remus gets off of the train as one of the last. He has just some shoulder bag over his back, already in a suit.

He looks stunning.

I give him a quick hug.

It's not a date.

"How was your journey?"

"Okay, nothing special."

He is smiling but doesn't speak much more. And I am too out of my mind to push him.

I spent most of the yesterday laying, thinking and listening to Simple plan and James, who was talking too much. And both of the voices seems so buried in my past that I felt the nostalgic overwhelming me.

This morning he [James] just couldn't shut up. He could be nervous and I should be the cool one. But there's never been a chance. There will be too many people, who actually know everything about me, every dirty secret, who know the history of my family. And there will be Remus – and I am certainly not going to be always around him to keep him unattached to the others. There will be some intervention – I know it. And I am scared.

We arrive at the James's place to pick him up. His parents are already in the first cab and James is stepping at the front door. "Where the hell are you? It's almost noon."

"Calm down, okay? It doesn't matter if we are going to wait here or there."

I notice Remus's waving hand in the air.

"Oh hello," James wakes up.

"James, this is my _friend_ Remus." I make sure he would understand what I am trying to say.

In any other occasion, _he_ would make sure to _not_ understand what I'm trying to say. He would take an advantage on me, embarrass me and everything. He would try to see how big friend is this Remus. How many dirty little secrets he could tell him about me without losing our friendship. I would make sure to lose mine with James's if that would happen, but it's his wedding – his day. And he is that type that doesn't want to embarrass people on his special day. As Lily's said: "Everything has to be tip top."

So he just nods with a secret smile hidden behind his spectacles just for me and greets him.

"Very nice to meet you. Every friend of my friend is my friend."

We share the second cab. James is staring out of the window and is oddly quiet. He doesn't produce any second thought, any hesitation at all. He is smiling, daydreaming. But not in the way he used to daydream about Lily in the time when he was trying to win her heart. He has already managed that. He is quietly smiling with content features. Is this how it feels like? Be loved back? Calmness would be nice, I can imagine.

Remus's knee is brushing mine and I ban myself to daydream. It's the only reasonable solution I can make, actually. I ban myself of any romantic thoughts because the wedding would kill me otherwise. So I just move my leg away from his. He does the same.

The beginning is nice, actually. Lily is beautiful, her dress is decent and chaste and her hair is entwined in a small bun. But it's nothing in comparison with James amazement. I have to hide all those stupid smiles before I realise that everyone has it on their faces. The stupid smiles I mean.

Except of James's and Lily's mums, of course. They are weeping and helping to wipe moist faces mutually.

There is nothing wrong in the church except the cold. I hate cold. My suit is not so thick and I can't imagine how cold Lily must be. I shift all the time and cross my arms around me.

"You are trembling like a chiwawa." Remus hisses into my ear with amusement. He isn't helping. He really isn't.

I snort, but even that comes out as a breathless squeak. He is laughing slightly and slips his arm around my shoulders to warm me. I would rather freeze then to let the others think it means something because that's what will come. I am certain.

I am one of the first one outsides. The sun is warming my face and I feel my muscles release.

"You all right?" Remus asks with a chuckle.

"Sure, I just can't stand the chill really."

"I figured."

It happens for the first time when we move to the reception. Remus is pulled away by some Lily's bridesmaid and some older woman comes to my side and I realise it's James's grandmother.

"Listen, Sirius, you are the best man, right?"

"Yes, granny."

"So, I want to discuss the speech with you."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"To make sure you are correct and decent."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"We all know you, darling. You even _bring_ one of your kind in here. Not that I mind, but you know, not everyone here is so open minded. And it's their wedding..."

That's annoying. I feel the anger painting my complexion to redder shade. But she's granny. And not even _my_ granny. And not my day. And not my time to be rude.

"You don't have to be afraid. I am not going to talk about anything controversial. And he isn't even one of _my kind_ , either."

"Oh, no? That's brilliant, really. You're a good chap, Sirius. Thank you."

"Oh right, no problem. I just push down my basic instincts." She hasn't noticed the bursting sarcasm. That's for the best, I guess. She pats my shoulder and leaves to watch as James sweeps plate shards.

I stay behind and watch the little crowd from the distance. I have a lot to do, but right now I need to push my temper down.

"Hello, Sirius." It's one of our mutual friends. Maurice. Maurice Brown.

He's bitter and sarcastic and I've kissed him once. But that's it. He's straight and I'm no longer interested. I've been, like about two hours in delirium, but I have enough of my own ego. I don't really want to deal with someone's else narcissism.

Remus hasn't one, I'm sure.

I nod to him. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Since that one time, he's been looking down on me.

Even though I told Lily we have plenty of others friends with James, the truth is: it's just Kate and Steven [plus Henry], two of them who really don't mind my sexual orientation, or my lack of interest in their opinions, or the right one, or whatever. Kate Finnigan is a sweet lesbian and Steven Goldstein is just Steven. Funny, smart and tall as the Eiffel Tower.

They both are missing. I am the best man… and I feel like I don't belong here. I feel so lonely that my ribcage hurts with the start of cry. It hasn't a chance of coming up my spine, up my throat. I push it into my belly, into the appendix, where it sticks and forms into one heavy dusty lump.

Remus is seated by my side and, thank God, nobody seems to inform him about _that kind of mine_.

Now is the moment to pronounce my speech. I'm not nervous, though. I have all of it prepared. About my brother love for James, about marriage and family as the most important institution on the Earth and so on. It's pretty cheesy, but I know Lily appreciates that. James, on the other hand, would be disappointed if I wouldn't do anything funny. So for his sake, I add one line which denies everything that I said before.

"I wrote down, ages ago, though," I start. "After the first meeting of James's eyes with Lily's, what he'd said and I quote: 'I would just shag her, you know? That would be enough for me.'" I smirk.

There is a long awkward silence and then it's Lily, who is the first one who bursts into a laugh. And I know exactly what she's laughing. Ever since and then James's came to know her – nothing has really been enough. Maybe until today way to the church. Maybe today is enough for now.

It turns out okay, in the end, everyone tries to smile at least. James has the widest grin.

So I make a toast and everyone copy my risen glass. There is a laugh, there is a jingle, there is kissing sounds all over the place.

I am glad about the best man part done, really. Now, according to some stupid tradition, I should kidnap the braid. But I'm not feeling like it. The founder of that tradition apparently didn't know Lily back then. Nobody mentions anything.

Remus turns out to be a lovely company for these occasions. Nobody mentions even our "supposed to be couple" thing and I'm starting to have a really good time. By the time the eating is over and the dancing takes its place, nobody seems to have a need for expressing their opinions and advice about us. I am starting to relax and the time speeds up. The DJ is playing the song I really hate, but Lily appears to love it because she is making some crazy movement with her sister on the dancing floor. Her sister, well she doesn't seem to enjoy it as well, but it's more amusing than anything else.

"She is one of the craziest dancers I know," Remus says in total amazement.

"Save it. You haven't seen James yet." I smirk and look at James, who is hiding behind his grandparents, eventually enjoying their company, sending glances at his new wife, desperately avoiding her attention.

"How about your dancing? Any good?" he asks.

"Sure, when I feel like it. Not to these crap songs, though. Need to be special, like total jazz classic or something like that."

"It has to, uhm, I see your point. I am dancing while cooking," he admits, not at all embarrassed. Okay, why am I thinking he should be? Probably because I would give my guitar for that spectacle.

"You do? Interesting. What music?"

"I like _The Fray_ or _Iron & Wine_."

"It's not quite dance music, is it?"

"Any music is dance music."

"Even this?" I point to the DJ's table.

"Sure, the braid's dancing."

Then there is some slower song, but Lily is too exhausted to look for her husband. She heads unpredictably toward us.

"Hey guys," she smiles and presses her hand to her breasts. Panting heavily. "Will you introduce us?" she winks at me.

I introduce them.

"Nice to meet you, Remus. I know exactly nothing about you. Sirius is starting to be close-tongued."

Remus just politely nod, unsure.

"What do you do?" she asks him.

"I work in a bakery during my gap year. That's where I've come to know Sirius."

"I see," she nods repetitively. "Do you know your major already?"

"It's English lit."

"Oh really? I used to think about that, but I decided otherwise. I study genetics now."

"You do?" I see he's impressed.

"Yeah, it's more stimulating than I've expected." She catches an eye of someone else and apologises for leaving.

"She's lovely," he smiles.

I just thank God she is so stimulated now. She would be able to interview him for the rest of the night and he wouldn't like it.

"Sirius, tell me something."

I wait a while. "You know, you need to ask first when you want to hear an answer, right?"

He gives me a look, I grin.

"Why are you living in Manchester when everyone you know lives here?"

"Because I am an opportunist."

He frowns. "Are you happy, though?"

I glance at him; he is looking weirdly ambivalent. I look away.

"Sure, I've found what I've always wanted. I am happy."

"You work like a hatter and you don't seem like you would want to be such a lone wolf."

"I am not."

"Oh yes, you are. You had to ask a stranger to your best friend's wedding."

"Stranger?" That and a shocked face is all I can manage.

"A friend, but that's not the point." His forehead is frowning and one corner of his mouth is disappearing inside of it.

"I would ask you even if I would be living here."

He smiles eventually. "You wouldn't know me."

"Then we should be glad that I've moved."

And at the exact time, someone shows up right in front of me and Remus, while we are casually sipping our drinks.

It's Regulus and his two comrades. I assume he hasn't dared to come alone. I try to shove Remus of the way, but it's too late.

"My dearest brother, what brings you to the banned city of ours? I thought you had escaped in the way that can't take any comebacks."

Okay, scratch that statement about Maurice. _He_ is bitter and sarcastic. And mean and evil and I love him even though.

"What are you doing here? It's private celebration." I growl.

James is making his way through the dancing floor already, heading toward us.

"I come to greet you simply. And remind you that you are not welcome." His eyes flash to Remus.

I know that mother's made him come and say that. And that the two comrades of his are here to make sure he delivers the message, but I don't care.

He makes something like a coy smirk and obviously wants to say some mean prompt, but I slap him across his face sooner. I really can't harm him more. I've tried to punch him with fist once, but I haven't been able to do it. He is my little brother. I still see him with watery eyes as our first secret pet died.

The three are about to plunge upon me, but everyone in here joins us and hold their hands and shoulders. There is some incoherent screaming. Some billingsgate and nasty gestures where I actually could put my prick. I leave before I burst in fists as always in these occasions. Even if I can't punch Regulus, there are still these two bastards.

I want to lock myself in the next room, but there is just no key. So I just sit down on the couch and hold my head in my hands. How could I spoil even James's wedding? My family did it. My family, not me. We are no longer the same people. And no one is really associating us. Not in this party anyway.

I know that James will settle it down; I just regret that Remus will learn about the whole "bad past" issue, "not accepting queers" issue, "no family backup" issue like that.

I would make sure to make fun of it. Not letting him feel pity or disgust or anything he possibly could.

I realise I'm still holding my drink and so I drink it all at once. Then I lean against the cautions, pull my legs up and turn my face into the mattress.

I remember just fine like my mother looked when I told her I didn't give a shit about her ideas of my living. And she kicked me out when I couldn't help myself and told her that I'm dating a boy – which wasn't true, but she couldn't know it. The truth is I've never dated anyone. I've never met anyone who I would fancy enough and know he's gay.

I was in some weird relationships back in university, but it really wasn't anything that nice. And I felt terrible anytime we did it.

It was hard, breathing through the pillows. Soon I start to suffocate, so I turn on my back and cross my arms to push the weep lump even lower. I was afraid to express any desperate face. I was worried I couldn't breathe enough.

I hear as the music starts again and I realise that Regulus is probably gone already. It doesn't make me happy, though. I miss him. I want to slap him one more time.

It seems like an eternity; that's how long I am sitting here. James must have told everyone to leave me alone. The music is the only time measure. It's so bad that it makes me smile with amusement. It's James favourite band. _Horny horns_ , can you imagine?

Disgusting. Too many beats and electrics, in my opinion. I can't even understand the singer what he is singing. That's the wedding playlist, lovely.

I am having fun, actually. Now there is this stupid long and melancholic song [which is definitely Lily's one] by Birdy. Her voice is so sweet it makes me feel marshmallows on my tongue. And I fucking hate marshmallows. It should be the other way around, but the next song is _All You Can Eat_ , my favourite. [I can't understand how that song managed to be on the wedding playlist when there are children.]

And it makes me frown. It's very possible, that all of my favourite songs make me sad. It may be because only my favourite songs make me _feel_ something. And since sadness is my current state – it just increases my depression. Even though it's _Ben_ fucking _Folds_.

There is someone standing behind me. I know, because I heard when the door opened [the music got louder] and closed [the music suppressed again].

I know it's him. Everyone else would be already telling me advice and yelling at me to come back and have fun.

He turns up at the side of the couch and smiles. His face is red and his hair is messy. What was he doing? Was he in the fight with them too?

His hand is in the air, he wants me to come back with him, I assume. Honestly, I don't want to. So I look away.

"May I have this dance?" he asks.

Eghrm. _What_

I look back at him. He blushes even harder.

Okay, to be absolutely honest, I had a plan. I wanted to let James talk to him, chit chat, because James proclaims himself as a queer seeker. He has promised me once, that he would find me my golden boy sometimes. I really can't tell most of the time, if anyone is gay or not and I am not confident in this thing, to go straight to probably straight person and ask him out, that's just humiliating. I know, I know, I get it, stupid. However, James is somehow always right. So… I wanted him to tell me Remus's sexual orientation, however pathetic it sounds.

Then I would have a talk with Remus if any girl had crossed his eye, to give him a chance to come out. And he would tell me one or the other way – and probably he would ask me the same question and that would be my time for coming out. And whatever could happen would happen… I see the blind spots, okay?

But I haven't got a chance to speak with James yet. And moreover, it's too late now. I haven't counted with this. It's about five minutes I am staring at him now. I know because the song is over. The next one is that creepy one: _Rippin' Kittin._ And then the _Blue Blood_ by _Foals_ is taking its place. I would really like to know, who is this DJ and who let him do weddings.

His hand is still up.

And then I realise what he's doing. I am not that type, who wouldn't take a chance, where there is one.

It's uncomfortable, after all these months to admit my affection, because he must know everything by know. My hand is trembling when I stand up and take his. I am smaller and he's playing the role of the man part. His hand slides on my back and I stop breathing.

He smells so nice. He's a bit sweaty under his jacket and his cologne is already faded. It's just him.

I am not usually that passive.

It's funny. Before a moment, there was some music, now there is just my crazy heart beating louder and louder in my ears.

We are not dancing. He is trying, shifting his legs slightly, but it's the only move. We are hugging, sort of. And I want to kiss him.

I can't resist the urge anymore. And I am not going to.

I look him in the eyes. Then his lips. Then his eyes again. Asking him.

I really can't tell if he isn't just polite. His eyes are just his eyes and everything they were before. Beautiful and reticent. His hand is sweaty and his breath catches almost like mine, but that doesn't mean that this 'dance' isn't just some sympathetic comfort offer. I know these guys who do that. Even if it's unimaginable to think that Remus would be capable of such a dishonest thing.

Then there is his hand on my back, pressing me closer till our noses touch.

That's all I can bear, really. I kiss him.

He immediately stops moving. And his hand tightens. It's breathless, shaky, subtle and almost childish. I clearly don't know what to do with myself. I am overwhelmed and afraid of fainting.

His hand presses tighter.

I break off. My eyes still shut.

I would like to be on Tahiti or someplace similar to it. It wouldn't be so hot or crowded or loud as the current state of this place. And definitely, I would manage to think at least. It wasn't my favourite activity, I must admit, but _be able_ to do it was always enough. Now, there isn't even that.

His hand presses tighter.

And we kiss again. Or he kisses me, or I don't really know. And it's not shaky or subtle and certainly not childish. It's breathless, hungry, I pull his hair.

He breaks off.

He gasps.

I open my eyes.

He says: "I have the room 26 on the second floor. Give me a headstart.

And suddenly he is gone, waving door behind him.

I should be sure what have just happened, but I am as far from sure as I can be. Or, I should at least be sure what that meant. Like.. was Remus aware what he was doing at all? What did that mean to him? Was that look in his eyes sincere?

And most of all – why the hell has he invited me into his room?

I come to the conclusion that it must have been some joke or some terrible misunderstanding. Well – he has obviously learned I'm gay – he wouldn't have made such a bold move out of the blue if James wouldn't tell him. But, … I … I just. I just can't think.

I slowly move. Each step I make to the second floor I am thinking about something else. The way he was embracing me, step. His breath on my face, step. How soft his lips were. Step. The look in his eyes when he came to the couch to ask me for a dance. Step. How I don't care about what's going to happen, because everything I've wanted was to kiss him someday. STEP. How he doesn't care about my past or anything really, because of the way he approached me after he found out that I am single in every single was the word encompasses. S.T.E.P.

It's a long way up.

Anyway, when I finally reach the second floor, I'm not smarter.

24… 25.. 26. My breath is heavy again and I have a trouble to be brave. I stand in front of his door for minutes and then I start to hear some sounds from the inside. He's pacing, he clears his throat, then he comes near the door and I'm afraid he will open it and find me here. He turns around, though and I exhale. What am I doing here? He is my friend – why am I so pathetic? We will just talk it through.

There never was a chance of talking it through, was it?

I knock and enter. He's standing in the middle of the room, the smallest bedroom I've ever seen, with his arms around himself and with relief coming to his forehead.

I close the door and turn to face him. He is quiet and I'm not sure I am ready to make the first move, but I can't stand the silence. I move closer, stop just before him. He's not looking at me. He's biting his lip and his hair is falling to his face and I think it's beautiful how red his cheeks are and the nervous expression with white spots of embarrassment.

He lets his hands down. There is a word on his tongue, something like 'listen' or 'well' or 'you' or 'I' or some other rubbish, but I'm not going to listen to that.

It's now or never. That's easy, I always say now. Now – now – _now._

I place my hand on his face. It's hot and smooth – everything I've imagined. Everything I love. Then he finally looks at me. His teeth stop biting his lip.

There is my second hand on his cheek. I hate the lack of them. Of hands. I miss another two to embrace him. Next one to brush his hair. Next one to pull his tie. And still it wouldn't be enough.

I kiss his chin and his jaw and his cheek. It's unbelievable. He let me even nuzzle him. His hair is as soft as I've always thought. It's just after he presses tighter I realise he was hugging me all the time. And then he utters an incredible sound. He actually whines. With that, he turns his head a little and kisses me full mouthed.

I am so captured with myself that I notice what he's doing not before my tie is on the floor and the first of my buttons are undone. He pulls my jacket off my shoulders and presses me to the bed.

I can't believe it. He really wants to go to the bed with me. Like, right now?

I fall to the mattress and he is above me, jacketless, tieless. What the hell is happening?

Something on my face must show my shock because he stops whatever he's doing and stare at me. My breath disappears and that really is not what scares me. He's gasping and craving and I really don't know how to deal with this amount of gorgeousness. His lip is between his teeth again. He waits and I realise that he is asking _me_ now. He wants me. _Now_. And I'm not sure if that's what I want. Not yet. Too soon. However girly it sounds. I want to hold him. I want to know what that would mean for him before it would happen. It, it, it… oh gosh, I can't even say it.

But there is no place for that. Just his look, and it's captivating. He's not in the thinking mode, I can tell. Have I ever had a chance to protest really?

I find my hands on his back.

He bites his lip hard and smiles a bit. It's more like a bit of amusement than anything else.

"So, I win the best man, huh?" he says.

I can't believe he is joking right now. He could say whatever to assure me, to convince me he's serious about it, but no. He chooses to joke about it. I feel the tide of affection.

I touch his smile. "That makes the two of us," I say and pull him into a kiss.

With that, he presses me into the mattress with his whole heavy body and that's the end of the thinking for me.

* * *

He shivers against my chest. After he has fallen to sleep, my brain hasn't been able to shut up, causing my insomnia. I am not going to waste any minute of his presence with sleeping. I am thinking about the way he calls my name in pleasure and in sleep. And that sounds would definitely make it to the great pile.

* * *

 **Hello, I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **I just want to add that I have no idea how much cost an apple pie in Britain, (Tesco websites are like really weird) so... I have just guessed.**

 **xxx**


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